


The Light, The Heat

by callistawolf (orphan_account)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/callistawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This little (dare I say fluffy??) look into the Doctor's thought process was inspired by my most favorite song ever, "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel. I feel this song applies to the Doctor and Rose perfectly. </p>
<p>Many thanks to kelkat9 for the fantastic beta services!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light, The Heat

They’ve saved the world.  Again.  A different world this time, someplace so far from Earth that he’d have a hard time explaining to Rose just how far using terms she can understand.  The details don’t matter, of course, not now when everything is happy.  The citizens of this small planet, trillions of miles from anywhere, are so relieved and jubilant at being free and safe and  _alive_  that their enthusiasm is infectious.  Rose begged him to stay, just for the party.  It was all for them, she’d reminded him, to thank them for their help.  And she had so been in the mood to let loose and celebrate.  
  
The Doctor was reluctant to stay behind but didn’t see the harm this once.  She would go along with whatever he decided, he expected, but he didn’t want to abuse that loyalty of hers.  Plus, she deserved a break.  Perhaps, maybe, he did too.  
  
She is dancing now, in the center of the square, with a group of young Slir’vanee.  Local music is being played on flutes and drums and the youth are more than happy to express their joy through movement.  Rose, always wanting to dance, is happy to join them.  She is draped in a light cotton dress, her hair flowing free, her eyes glittering as she learns the moves to this native dance.  
  
He is supposed to be talking to a local dignitary but is having a difficult time focusing on the conversation.  His eyes are drawn to her and the way she is moving and smiling and... He takes a drink of his wine, hoping to swallow down the lump in his throat.  
  
Their life together is, for lack of a better word, fantastic.  They are the Doctor and Rose, flitting from adventure to adventure, saving worlds, freeing the enslaved, exploring new vistas and doing all of it together hand in hand.  He never dares to take anything much further than that.  They hold hands almost constantly, hug nearly as much and he’s even gotten in the habit of placing chaste kisses on her forehead here and there as the situation calls for it ( _saying goodnight, saying hello, that meal you cooked was wonderful, that thing you said was brilliant, I’m so happy you’re here_ ).  
  
There is a light in her eyes that means the world to him.  It’s a glitter of delight at sharing his world with him that he hasn’t quite noticed before in anyone else.  There’s a hope for his own future in those eyes and he can see it now, in this moment, as she dances near where he’s sitting and she’s smiling at him.  She’s swiveling her hips and grinning and he finds he can’t help but grin right back.  
  
She wants him to dance with her. He knows that.  The reasons not to  _dance_  with her are rapidly falling by the wayside.  It once meant self-preservation, an upholding and respecting of ancient traditions, a desire not to take advantage of what is precious to him.  But now...  He doesn’t want to waste any more time between them.  He doesn’t want to let any more moments slip away.  He knows if he doesn’t act that he could lose her and that is the thought that pushes him over the edge.  She’s keeping him alive and it is past time that he starts feeling it.  
  
He wants so much.  He wants to touch that light, and that heat that he sees in her eyes.  He wants  _her_.  
  
He excuses himself from the dignitary, hopefully not offending him too much in the process (rude and not ginger, that’s him).  He crosses the plaza to Rose, who is twirling in such a way that her dress fans out around her and she looks like a confection.  She’s a delicious bit of cotton fluff that he can pop in his mouth and then feel dissolve around his tongue.  
  
Her back is to him and she’s still swiveling her hips.  He doesn’t even really think as he reaches out, his hands on each hip, feeling her move under his touch.  She startles only a little before relaxing and letting a hand trail down to brush over his fingertips.  He starts to move with her, feeling the pulse of the drum beat vibrate through his bones, smelling the scent of her shampoo as her hair sways in front of him.  He tightens his grip.  
  
He catches on very quickly to the simple moves of the dance.  He hasn’t danced much at all in this incarnation and he’s delighted to find he’s got a natural knack for it.  Because of that, he’s able to pull Rose back against him and focus on the feel of her moving with him, in his arms.  
  
Her bum presses against the front of his trousers and he releases his hold.  With one hand, he reaches across in front of her, across her stomach, to palm her other hip.  With his other hand, he reaches up across her, wiggling his fingertips under the thin strap of her dress at her shoulder.  She’s tight up against him and yet they are still moving to the music, in sync as if they are made to dance like this, together.  
  
Her head falls back onto his shoulder, exposing the long, creamy expanse of her neck.  He leans his head down and inhales deeply, letting her intoxicating scent envelope him.  It’s a scent that he’s finding himself rapidly more and more addicted to.  He presses his lips to the spot just below her ear, brushes them down her neck as he feels her shudder against him.  
  
They’ve stopped moving now, the beat of the dance replaced by an entirely different sort of rhythm.  The square and the people in it fall away from their notice as he relaxes his hold and she turns in his arms to face him.  
  
Her whiskey eyes are dark as she gazes up at him and his breath catches in his throat at what he sees reflected there.  The very same desire, emotion ( _love?_ ), and depth that he feels are shining back at him and he is speechless.  Her hips move, bumping against him, reminding him of the dance.  She’s moving slower now, more purposeful somehow.  He moves in response, tightening his arms around her back, holding her warmth to himself.  He can’t take his eyes off of her, memorizing the way her skin looks in the firelight and the way her lips curve into a small smile.  
  
Are they still dancing?  They must be, they’re still moving, still in sync with one another if not with the music.  He wants this moment to stretch on forever, he wants to be complete in her and end this waiting here.  He feels like he’s searched for her over decades, centuries.  The searching is over now, he need look no further.  The search was over the moment he took her hand in that dark shop basement and told her to run.  Everything since then has just been him stalling, feeling lost and unsure and scared.  He didn’t need to feel scared anymore.  It is time to let the facade fall away and let his ridiculous pride follow suit.  
  
His right hand reaches up, cupping the back of her head.  Her eyes are on his lips now and she is waiting, waiting for him to make the next move.  He is rather happy to oblige as he dips his head down, pressing his lips to hers.  It amazes him that her lips are so much softer and more pliant and  _warmer_ than he was expecting. Clearly, he isn’t remembering much from kissing her on the Game Station or the incident in the hospital on New Earth.  Because this experience, right here and right now, is completely different and completely amazing.  She melts against him, her lips parting and he needs no further invitation than that.  
  
He brushes the tip of his tongue along her lower lip before dipping into her mouth to tease and taste and stroke along her tongue.  He finds that Rose tastes incredible and he is suddenly looking forward to tasting much more.  He wants to catalogue everything about her and knows he will approach the task with the thoroughness of the most rigorous scientist.  He catches her moan, swallows it into himself and finds himself answering it with a groan of his own as her fingers dive through his hair, tugging gently on the strands.  
  
The sudden noise of applause causes them to jerk apart.  The band has finished playing and everyone is clapping their appreciation.  He stares around at the people still filling the square before his gaze comes back around to Rose, still held close in his arms.  She looks stunned and he lets go of her reluctantly, stepping back.  What if he had pushed her further than she was comfortable?  He tries to judge her reaction, finding the blush that creeps across her cheeks to be utterly charming.  
  
“Rose,” he says, and his voice sounds rough to his own ears.  He reaches up to rub his thumb along her jaw.  
  
“Doctor?” she questions, sounding unsure and young and very vulnerable for perhaps the first time since he’s known her.  It makes his hearts twist in his chest.  He wants very badly to reassure her so that she never has to sound like that again.  
  
He leans forward so that his mouth is next to her ear.  “I want this, Rose,” he murmurs and feels a shudder run through her.  “I’ve... I’ve fought this for too long.  I thought I was doing the right thing but it wasn’t the right thing.  It was the wrong thing.  I care... so much about you.”  
  
“I care too, Doctor,” she answers, her grip on his forearms tightening.  
  
“Do you want this, Rose?  I won’t push you, but I must tell you, this will change things if we go forward,” he said, hopes she understands.  He hopes she knows what an incredible step this is for him.  
  
“I want this.  I want  _you_ ,” she replies softly and he is lost.  But no, he was lost two years ago when she saved his life and joined him on the TARDIS.  This pivotal moment for them right here, right now causes timelines to shift into place at long, long last.  He still can’t quite see what their future together is like, he can never see his own timeline very well, but it’s what he doesn’t see that reassures him.  He doesn’t see her timeline which can only mean it’s entwined with his.  And  _that_  is very good news indeed.  
  
He smiles broadly at her, reaching for her hand with his and knitting his fingers with hers.  The fit is, as always, perfect.  “Come with me?” he asks, arching his eyebrows.  
  
She nods, nibbling at her bottom lip in that adorable way of hers.  “Always,” she says.  
  
He pulls her with him and together, they walk back to the TARDIS and into their future together.


End file.
